"Four quail and two rabbits," replied the old man laconically, without returning the greeting of his visitor. "And what have you in that old iron pot of yours? Something very good, I warrant." "Stewed quail with bacon." "Well, you must eat it yourself, for I do not want any supper to-night; I am going up to the house to pass the evening. Here is a package of tobacco for you. I shall be ready at the usual time for my breakfast." The old man nodded his thanks for the present; and Graham left the hut, and proceeded to the spot where his horse was tethered. He saddled and mounted the mustang, and rode swiftly down the narrow path. Old John watched from his doorway the movements of the young man, and when he had disappeared, sat down to his solitary meal. The brief glimpses of Graham and his many kindly acts were the only human influences which touched the life of poor old French John. His dealings with Hal Deering were rare; once in a month the young man visited his cot, overlooked the work he had been engaged upon, and paid him his wages. For the occasional gifts of tobacco and wine, the chance newspaper from Paris, which were the only events of importance in the dull routine of his life, he was indebted to Graham. He gave no expression to his gratitude, and would have been sorely puzzled to do so. But the artist was none the less aware of it; and some portion of the packages which occasionally came to the tower from San Francisco never failed to find their way to the hut of the wood-cutter.